


The Lady's Preparations

by septembersongs



Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24803422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/septembersongs/pseuds/septembersongs
Summary: A little flashback fic of The Skull Queen of Skral's seduction of Dagon Heterodyne through the use of cannon fodder minions.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 37





	The Lady's Preparations

**Author's Note:**

> Flashback panel found in chapter entitled [Do You Have A Boyfriend?](http://www.girlgeniusonline.com/comic.php?date=20080827)  
> Originally posted on [LiveJournal](https://fan-constructs.livejournal.com/17789.html).

One week ago, the Lady of Skral had woken up with a brilliant idea burning on her mind, and summoned before her the greatest warriors of her kingdom. She counted two hundred of them, and decided that that was a very good number to send forth on her latest crusade.

As they milled beneath her royal balcony, she leant over, her heaving bosom shored only by the skulls of two enemies lately fallen to her sword (the General Hebridan from the next kingdom over and the Lord of Krundor two leagues away), she addressed them in a voice that rang clear across the courtyard.

"Your orders, my servants, are very simple. Bring me the head of Dagon Heterodyne. Preferrably on a silver platter. But a pretty box will also do."

Murmurs flared up. Dagon Heterodyne? The Dagon Heterodyne? Surely even their great queen knew that to take on Dagon Heterodyne was to invite disaster. Mechanicsburg was insurmountable in geography. Its inhabitants were known for their brutality. Then there were the Jagermonsters. And of course, Dagon Heterodyne himself was reputed to be the most ruthless warrior in all over Europa, never mind in their own northern region - why, hadn't he single-handedly taken on the army of Bellona out west and won?

“The one who succeeds, of course, will be the next King of Skral.”

That silenced them into dumbfounded encouragement. The Lady of Skral, willing to stoop to marrying a commoner, despite being the greatest, most powerful warrioress of her own realm? All they needed was bring her the head of just one man? Certainly a powerful man, but, of course, she would demand such a high price for her hand, it all made complete and total sense.

“You shall leave this morn for Mechanicsburg. Do not fail me, my warriors.”

“What if more than one man brings you his head, my lady?” someone called from amongst the rabble.

“I expect you will fight each other to be the only one to bring his head in. That would make a lovely arrangement for the pikes outside the fortress – the skulls need replacing.”

The warriors cast jealous gazes over at each other, each marking out their target should the other be the one to get the head.

“Well, hurry off now,” the Lady of Skral said, turning with a wave of her hand.

As she entered the chamber where her throne sat, she indolently waved away a maid who offered her a drink, and her chamberlain gave her a bemused expression. “Was that wise, your majesty? They’re only common homunculi.”

“Yes, of course it’ll work.”

“But… to marry one of your own minions-”

“A queen will marry whosoever she pleases,” the Lady of Skral retorted. “Now go get me some lunch, I’m feeling peckish after all that talking.”

As the chamberlain went to order food for his liege lady, her handmaidens came over with a robe to drape over the queen’s shoulders. “You didn’t mean that, did you?” the leader of them asked. She had been in the Skull Queen's service longest, so felt a certain amount of comfort in daring to question their mistress.

“But of course I did. I’m a queen, and a queen always keeps her promises.”

The maid, who had grown up with her since they were both young girls, raised an eyebrow at her. “You don’t expect them to return with Dagon Heterodyne’s head, do you?”

The Lady of Skral gave her leading handmaiden a sly smile.

“Then why all the trouble of declaring war on him?”

“I’m not declaring war on him,” she sniffed.

The handmaiden said nothing for a long while as the chef rolled in trays of pastries and General Hebridan’s liver sautéed in olive oil, garnished with basil, pepper and parsley.

At length, the handmaidens, understanding the situation, began tittering amongst themselves excitedly.

“What colour drapes?” “What flowers?” “Which skulls do we polish?” “We’ll have to fatten up that Solly pig even faster, now.” “I’ll send for the seamstresses.” “Shall I summon the three mechanics, five strongmen and two blind men to open up the vaults for the ancestral jewels?” “We’ll bring in the cows from the eastern pasture.”

But that was a week ago.

This morning, the dread queen woke up at the crack of sunrise and called for her best masseuses, ensuring that she was caked in at least a finger’s width worth of the best, smoothest and most fragrant muds in the kingdom. She lay there with slices of the ripest cucumbers over her eyes until a soupy breakfast was served late in the morning, which she drank with a straw in order not to disturb her facial mask.

At noon, they scraped the mud off her, and, dressed in her royal bathrobe, she strode downstairs to inspect the fifty virgins of the kingdom she had ordered previously during the week for her bath.

“These were all you could find?” she asked, raising a critical eyebrow

“Unfortunately, my queen,” came the reply.

“They’re children! None of them are over fourteen!” the Lady of Skral said disgustedly.

“Well, if they’re not virgins, they certainly have no idea what not being a virgin really is like.”

“Are you telling me there are no virgins of suitable age available in the kingdom?”

“Word got out fast, my lady. The town registry shows a surplus of marriages happening within the kingdom about a day after you sent for the Heterodyne’s death.”

“So fast?” She pursed her lips, pondering the baby boom that would occur as a result. It had happened once before, when she took the throne. However- “Tch. Fine. Grab all the newlyweds in the kingdom, then.”

“But you asked for-”

“I know what I asked for! But they couldn’t have figured it out that fast! Go get them!”

“Even the grooms?”

“Of course! This," she said loftily, "is a kingdom run on gender equity.”

Within the hour that she usefully spent with a pedicure and a manicure, they had rounded up forty couples, of whom she picked twenty five.

“Why them?” her handmaiden asked doubtfully. “They’re not exactly the most clueless…”

“Exactly. They’re complete braggarts. Which makes them most likely to actually be virgins.”

The Lady of Skral proceeded to lunch on the meat of a monster she had previously captured from the tunnels in the Carpathian mountains by herself (all her retainers had died of various causes along the way, through no fault of her own) and drank plenty of pristine water from the local fresh springs. By the time she was done, her bath was ready.

Her Majesty’s ornately-decorated bathing room had pipes leading into it from all four corners, and currently swilled with the milk of ten cows and forty goats, honey from thirty beehives and a cup of blood each from the hapless newlyweds. It bubbled from a high temperature, powered by several dwarfs downstairs slaving to feed the fire under the bathing room with as much coal as they could shovel in.

She soaked herself in the mixture for the requisite two hours, and then her handmaidens scrubbed her down to ensure the last of the mud was gone from every crevice and pore on her body. When she felt done, she hit a lever in the corner, and the bloody mixture drained out of the bathing room to be replaced by cold water to rinse her body off. Her handmaidens scrubbed her down again until she was clean. They shampooed her hair with strong herbal soaps and rubbed her scalp down with a mix of rose, lavender and citrus oils.

“He should be here by now,” she said as she finished drying herself off. “Are Lords Bathory and Fitz Hugh ready for this occasion?”

“They certainly were worthy enemies,” her lead handmaiden agreed, as they latched the skulls about her bosom. They laced chains about her waist and neck, and draped silk about her hips. They balanced her as they helped her put on her boots, latching on the proper clasps, ensuring a good fit. “And here’s your crown.”

“It’s about time the Red Dragon’s child was given her due,” the Lady of Skral said, fondly placing the horned skull on her head. The Red Dragon's child she had stolen from its mother as an egg, because such a noble creature surely deserved to be made the crown of royalty.

Thus dressed, she strode confidently to her throne room, where she could already hear the scuffling out in the courtyard, the clanging of swords and the guttural cries of fallen soldiers. She flopped onto her throne, sighing contentedly, and slung a leg over an arm of her throne.

Apparently, she still had to wait, she thought, putting her hands behind her head. Annoying, but bearable. Through the hallways now, and the antechamber right outside. Her chamberlain, who still hadn’t really understood the entire exercise of the week, jumped in front of the curtain to rush at the enemy. He was cut down swiftly, and quite accidentally, when Dagon Heterodyne used his sword to push open one side of the curtain. With the other hand, he pushed the other curtain to confront her.

The Skull Queen of Skral glanced at her window, where the dying light of the sun was disappearing over the horizon. She grinned at the Heterodyne. “You are _late_.”


End file.
